


Insane Domestic

by BrownieFox



Series: Youtuber fics [11]
Category: Real People RPF, Youtubers RPF
Genre: .5 second, Gen, others but they show up for like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 12:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13904073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrownieFox/pseuds/BrownieFox
Summary: Wilford and Silver go shopping.





	Insane Domestic

“We’re out of milk again.” Bim groaned, staring into the the fridge. “And eggs, and bread.” 

“Add bacon to the list.” Ed reported as he fried up the last of it. 

“It would seem a grocery run is, once again, unavoidable.” Google said. “Last night I took inventory and we are down to three cans of green beans, nine bags of chips, one-half of a chicken leg, one can of mushrooms, twenty bags of coffee beans, and the pumpkin from last Halloween that has become a giant spot of mold and may now possess sentience.”

“Great, just great.” Dark entered the dining room, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Silver, go get the backpack, and somebody wake up Wilford.” 

“NOSE GOES!”

Immediately, the egos’ hands snapped to their nose, watching each other warily. Well, Dark didn’t do it, but frankly nobody in the room could make Dark do anything. It was in this moment that Dr. Iplier was unfortunate enough to walk in. 

“HaHA!” Bim pointed at the doctor victoriously, who promptly swore. 

“Great, what do I have to do.”

“Wake up Wilford, money needs to be spent.” 

“Shit.” Dr. Iplier looked at the others in the room, as if hoping that one of them would volunteer to go in his place, but none did. With a sigh, he turned back around. 

Wilford’s room was at the end of the hall, across form Dark’s. All of the rooms were reinforced, but the rooms of the eldest egos were especially so. Dr. Iplier wondered if he should’ve first found some kind of shield, but he was already at the door and it wasn’t like he couldn’t dodge knives. Nevertheless, he did make sure he had a few bandages on him. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the door knob.

“GOOOOD MORNING EGOS!” 

The florescent-pink door slammed open with enough force to send the Doctor with it, hand caught between the door handle and the wall. 

“Oh, Doc, didn’t see you there.” Wilford swung the door closed with a loud slam, freeing Dr. Iplier and allowing him to grab at his definitely-broken hand. “Oh my, looks like your hand is in a bit of pain. Need a bit of help there?”

“NO.” Dr. Iplier quickly said, panic in his eyes. “No, I’m a doctor, I can take care of it.”

“If you say so.” Wilford shrugs.

“Wilford, we’re just about out of food.” Ooh, that was not a good glint in the elder ego’s eyes. 

“Ah, shopping time.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Well, no reason to stall.” He hummed as the two headed down the hall.

“Silver, you’re going to be out in public. Civilian clothes.” Dark’s warped voice reached the Doctor and Wilford as they returned to the kitchen.

“But what if a crime happens while we’re out?” Silver whined.

“Then you’ll have to ignore it, seeing as your main priority is keeping Wilford from making a scene.” Dark was not leaving for any argument.

“He’s already making a scene dressed like that.” Silver Shepherd pointed to Wilford. He was dressed in a pastel-pink sweater -the word ‘Stabulous’ written across the front of it with glitter and various other pastel colors - and a pair of pale yellow booty shorts.

“You just wish you had legs like these.” To accentuate his point Wilford put his foot on the table to show off.

“We all have those legs.” Silver groaned. “Can’t you make him change, Dark?” 

“Do you think I can?” Dark raised an eyebrow, eliciting another groan from Silver.

“Never mind.” Silver grumbled and handed the poodle backpack-leash to Wilford. “C’mon, let’s get this over with quickly.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you didn’t want to go shopping with me.” Wilford winked at Silver. 

* * *

“Remember the rules.” Google steered the car through the parking lot. “You’re brothers. If somebody says you look familiar, laugh it off. If you’re addressed by someone as Mark, run. It doesn’t matter if you’re paid for what you have or not, keeping ourselves secret is more important than theft.” Silver looked like he wanted very much to argue with that, while Wilford’s eyes just sparkled at the prospect of doing, well, anything. “I’ll be back for you in one hour.” Google said as the two egos got out of the car, Silver’s hand tightly gripping the end of the leash. “If you’re not out here, I will assume there was a complication and go in for you.” 

“Have a little faith in us, Great Googly-Moogly.” Wilford’s mustache wiggled as he talked. Google just rolled up the window and drove away.

“Okay, Google printed a list of what we need. There’s lettuce, potatoes, ham, Dark’s usual stuff, peanuts,”

“I trust you know what we need.” Wilford flapped his hand at Silver dismissively.

Things went smoothly at first. They got into the store with minimal trouble and had gotten the basics. Most important, of course, being Dark’s cinnamon, jalapeno peppers, and marshmallows. Then came the harder part of the shopping: going to the other parts of the store. The farther in they went the more Wilford got distracted, and that was never a good thing.

“Wilford,” Silver tugged at the backpack, pulling the ego away from the candy isle.

“Don’t be such a downer Silver.” Wilford pouted but luckily headed to the tugging this time, following Silver into the clothing section. Usually clothes were bought online where an ego could order whatever they wanted without going outside the house and causing... problems. But, when given the opportunity, cheaper clothes that were bought from an actual store were a welcome change. Silver picked out a few casual shorts, jeans, and t-shirts that could easily be divided up/fought over by the others upon their return. And while some had more  _specific_  outfit choices (Host, Wilford, Dark) it was always worth seeing if something happened to work.

“Perfect.” Wilford held out the blue-and-red plaid flannel happily. “It’s all been worth it now.”

“Please tell me that’s not-”

“It’s for Dark!” Silver sighed in exasperation.

“Tacky.” He muttered under his breath and immediately Wilford was staring at him with murder creeping into his eyes.

“What was that Silver?” Something glinted from the murderer’s sleeve.

“Nothingitsagreatshirt!” Silver yelped and grabbed Wilford’s arm. The murderer winked at him. People were watching them, a few whispering, and Silver released Dark’s arm. 

“Well, why didn’t you say so. We’ll get one for you too.” Wilford pulled a black and shiny-silver one off the rack. Great. Now Silver’d have to wear that or risk an attack later on. Wilford had his equivalent to a smirk on his face, he knew exactly what he’d just done. “And, oh my would you look at those.” Silver was completely ready to become even more exasperated, but instead let out a squeal upon seeing the wall of graphic tee’s, many of which featured super hero logos. 

“Wilford, Wilford I need them all.” 

The hero then proceeded to spend the next thirty minutes trying on the shirts. It was only once he had found one or two of each shirt that fit him that he realized he had let go of Wilford’s leash, the backpack laying on the floor by the rack of flannels, and the mustached murderer was nowhere to be scene. The shirts fell to the ground as Silver whipped out his phone. 

“Host-”

“The Silver Shepherd lost Wilford.” 

“Y-yes, I did.” 

“The Host will be arriving shortly.”

* * *

“The people in the store do not react as The Host enters. They pay no attention to him, and for a moment forget even their surrounds as they freeze, motionless, caught in their own thoughts.”

The Wal-Mart goes eerily silent as the Host strides in, trench coat billowing behind him and bandages steadily getting bloodier. The Silver Shepherd runs up to him, worry plain on his face, and while the Host doesn’t turn to look at him it’s clear that he knows he’s there.

“I’m sorry Host, I got distracted. There were these shirts and-”

“As long as Wilford hasn’t done irreparable damage to the people here, The Silver Shepherd does not need to start worrying yet.” The Host cuts him off. Silver continues to wring his hands nervously as The Host narrates quietly under his breath, feeling out the building that seems to be caught in time and moving towards the toy section.

They find Wilford there, playing with a pack of bubbles that definitely hadn’t been purchased yet. The bubbles stay suspended and un-popped in the air for an unnatural amount of time and Wilford winks at them as they enter the isle. He puts down the bubble wand and puts on the backpack again without complaint. And Silver feels distinctly played. 

By the time the three of them make it out of the store (Wilford stopping to pay for their large load of items in the self-checkout with his ‘hard earned cash -mustache wiggle -’) and to Google’s car, The Host’s bandages were soaking and he was leaned more than a bit on Silver before finally finishing his narration over the store with a,

“And the shoppers came back to themselves, awoken from their daze and unable to recall what it had been that they’d been thinking about. They shrug off the moment, putting it to the back of their mind as they continue through the store. After all, they all had things to do and places to be other than a small, meaningless store.” 

“Looks like Hosty may need to take a bit of a nap.” Wilford nudged Silver as The Host set to work changing his bandages. 

“Next time can somebody else be assigned to take Wilford shopping.” Silver begged. 

“You know you’re the only one with moral’s strong enough to do it.” Google answered matter-of-factly. Silver flopped back on the seat. At least it should be a while before the next time.


End file.
